"Mirza-Schaffy!" I began, when we sat again assembled in the Divan of
Wisdom, "what wilt thou say when I tell thee that the wise men of the
West consider you as stupid as you do them?"
"What can I do but be amazed at their folly?" he replied. "What new
thing can I learn from them, when they only repeat mine?"
He ordered a fresh chibouk, mused awhile meditatingly before him, bade
us get ready the _kalemdan_ (writing-stand), and then began to sing:--
"Shall I laughing, shall I weeping
Go, because men are so brute,
Always foreign sense repeating,
And in self-expression mute?
"No, the Maker's praise shall rise
For the foolish generation;
Else the wisdom of the wise
Would be lost from observation!"
"Mirza-Schaffy," said I, interrupting him again, "would it not be a
prudent beginning to clothe thy sayings in a Western dress, to the end
that they might be a mirror for the foolish, a rule of conduct for the
erring, and a source of high enjoyment for our wives and maidens, whose
charm is as great as their inclination to wisdom?"
"Women are everywhere wise," replied my reverend teacher, "and their
power is greater than fools imagine. Their eyes are the original seat of
all true devotion and wisdom, and he who inspires from them needs not
wait for death to enter upon the joys of Paradise. The smallest finger
of woman overthrows the mightiest edifice of faith, and the youngest
maiden mars the oldest institutions of the Church!"
"But thou hast not yet given me an answer to my question, O Mirza!"
"Thou speakest wisely. The seed of my words has taken root in thy heart.
Write; I will sing!"
And now he sang to me a number of wonderful songs, part of which here
follow in an English dress.